


One for My Baby

by sixteencrows



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Craig Boone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixteencrows/pseuds/sixteencrows
Summary: A look at the quest One for My Baby following the perspective of Craig Boone on a courier who is as charismatic as they are off putting.
Kudos: 8





	One for My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> (I haven't written anything in a while so go easy on me lol)

I didn’t really know what to expect when the courier came up to meet me at my look-out at the top of Dinky the T-Rex.

At first I thought they were some prospector or thief, taking advantage of the night to search for forgotten scrap, but they didn’t seem surprised when we ended up nose-to-nose on that four foot by five foot platform. On the rare occasion anyone aside from myself or Vargas went up there the steep drop and creaking dinosaur was usually enough to send them high tailing it back down. Not this one though.

They started asking questions, very pointed questions. Sure, there were the regular pleasantries of “hey how are you, are you Craig Boone?” but just as I expected them to start chatting about the weather their tone shifted. They watched me from under the brim of their hat with squinting, red rimmed eyes and started asking me about my wife. About Carla.

Looking back on it, I don’t know why I didn’t kick them out right then and there. It’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly why I humoured their questions, but I felt like I could have spilled my entire life story to a stranger I’d known (barely known, didn’t even catch their name until the second time we met) for all of five minutes. There was something about those eyes, and the careful way they seemed to choose their words. They could have asked me for all the caps in my pockets and I would have gladly handed them over.

I told them about Carla’s disappearance. They offered to look into it. I kind of assumed that was going to be the end of it.

That morning, when it was time to switch places with Vargas, I asked him in passing if he had met them as well. He said he had, and described them to the letter. Tall, unassuming, and frightfully easy to talk to. He also mentioned a few things I hadn’t noticed in the harsh shadows cast by my lantern that night. They wore sunglasses, so dark you couldn’t make out their eyes, and had a small but dangerous looking scar barely hidden by their hair. He said it kind of looked like a bullet wound but there was no way someone could take a shot like that and walk away.

I returned to my room at the inn to sleep off the night’s events. I tossed and turned a lot, thinking about the promise I had made to the courier that if they found who was responsible for Carla’s kidnapping and brought them in front of Dinky during the night I would take care of them. I offered them caps, of course, nothing in the Mojave is free after all. Not that it mattered, I really didn’t think I would see them again.

Though I hoped I would.

The following night I returned to my post. It was nearly 23:00 when I spotted movement down on the ground. The night had been quiet and surprisingly cool but aside from a couple ants far in the distance of my scope there hadn’t been anything to speak of.

Peering down the length of my rifle I saw them. On the left was the courier, an easy stride in their step and their own hardware held loosely in their grip. They had the kind of posture you would expect from a guard on an easy patrol, one who tries to give the illusion of preparedness even when they knew there was nothing to be concerned about. On the right was Ms Jeannie May Crawford, looking antsy and carrying a pistol she did not look ready to shoot.

Really? Jeannie May? Why her of all people?

I tried to rack my memory, connect whatever dots there could be to link her to the kidnapping of Carla. I know the two of them never really got along. Carla never really adjusted to living in Novac, she was always more comfortable in the city. Jeannie May, being Jeannie May, could be the sweetest thing in the world provided you had nothing but kind things to say about Novac. They were both stubborn, and while I understood why they’d never be friends or anything, the idea of Jeannie May taking it upon herself to do something to Carla just didn’t sit quite right with me.

Then I saw those eyes again, watching me from under the brim of a hat, staring back through my scope. I thought about the times when I would mention Carla only for Jeannie May to insist that she had just wandered off. I steadied my rifle, waited for the wind to settle, and took my shot.

I leaned back in my chair, not bothering to watch if the stranger chose to rifle through her pockets or just leave the body to the geckos.

They rejoined me in my look-out a few minutes later, or it could have been hours I can’t really say. I gave them their payment, which they wordlessly accepted, and I asked how they knew. They explained the safe behind Jeannie May’s desk and the bill of sale sending Carla to the the fucking Legion of all places. I noticed the sudden pause, the crack in the otherwise steady facade, when I asked if there was anything else they found but they ultimately said no. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to know whatever they were hiding.

At the end of it all I didn’t feel like a handful of caps and a pat on the back were really enough payment for what they had done for me. Sure, I still didn’t have Carla, and the knowledge that she likely died in Legion ownership definitely kept me up for the next couple of days, but this was still more closure than I ever could have hoped for. I offered them my help, should they ever need an extra gun, but they just gave a crooked smile and wished me well. I couldn’t help but notice how they squinted in the harsh light of my lantern, or the faintest hint of a scar that just barely peaked out of their hair.

I’m sure I’ll see them again, and I hope I do.


End file.
